


Midnight Show

by call_lightning



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, I Listened to the New Killers Album and All I Got Was This Lousy Brainworm Fic, Love is expressed through the music hell yeah baby, M/M, Music Industry AU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Road Trips, Singer/Songwriter AU, Slow Burn, Songwriting, musician au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:55:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26739955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/call_lightning/pseuds/call_lightning
Summary: Byleth Eisner is a songwriter accompanying the popular indie rock band Blue Kingdom on their latest tour to help write their next album.Please welcome to the stage: the music industry modern AU featuring the entire Three Houses crew that you didn’t know you needed!
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Mercedes von Martritz, Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth, Dorothea Arnault/Petra Macneary, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, potential claudeleth/dimiclaudeleth we'll see
Comments: 9
Kudos: 17





	1. Nashville- Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: 2/10/21: Chapter has been edited for formatting and some content to make it fit more with an updated story

For some reason, Dimitri thought that his first time visiting Music Row would be more exciting. 

He had imagined an orderly street of modern studio buildings, gleaming with success and modernity, a worthy representation of the significance it held for the music industry. Instead, he found himself on a relatively tame front porch on a relatively tame loop of mismatched old houses and buildings, nervously fidgeting with his collar in sticky humidity and wondering if he and his friends were making the right decision. 

Everyone in the whole industry knew that Seiros Records had a serious reputation for producing hits, and after their previous producer folded, Dimitri knew that his band was lucky to even have gotten in with Seiros, a testament to their past two albums’ successes. He shot a glance at his other bandmates clustered on the porch with him as they loitered at the front door. 

Ashe was adjusting the strap of the bag that held his drumsticks, sidestepping the August sun to attempt to stay in the shade. Dedue was comfortably still in between them, seemingly unaffected by the heat. Both his bass guitar and the backpack containing their binders of music and contracts were slung over his broad shoulder. 

A few steps ahead of them, Sylvain and Felix were quietly bickering near the front door. Dimitri couldn’t make out exactly what they were saying, but he could vaguely discern the phrases “bachelorette parties,” and “fucking behave.”

Eventually, Felix threw his hands up in the air and snatched Sylvain’s guitar case out of his hands. “We’ve been standing here for too long, Sylvain, just press the damn buzzer.” 

Sylvain grinned, turning to the assembled men behind him. “Well, Blue Kingdom? Are we ready to make music history?” 

“ _You’re_ going to be history if we don’t get out of this humidity and into some AC in sixty seconds or less.” 

Sylvain mock-curtsied to Felix, and hit the red button next to the door. A tinny buzz could be faintly heard from the inside of the building. “Hey there,” he said, leaning into the speaker, “We’re Blue Kingdom, here for an appointment with Ms. Eisner?” 

Sylvain jumped away from the receiver as a much louder, high-pitched voice suddenly squealed out of it. 

_“Yes of course! Welcome, we’re so happy to have you! I’m opening the front for you now.”_

The door opened with a soft click, and Felix took the initiative to shoulder his way past Sylvain, guitars knocking against his side, followed by the rest of the band. Dimitri took up the rear, carefully closing the door behind him before taking in the interior of the building.

The lobby inside was much different than the exterior, with modern white walls and an open floor plan, accented with scattered green and blue low couches and potted plants. Cases of gleaming trophies, awards, and photographs lined the walls and corners. 

Dimitri found himself pausing his steps to take the entirety of the assembled memorabilia in, allowing himself to gawk a bit at the impressive assembled physical influence of Seiros. He almost ran face first into Dedue, who thankfully put a hand out to steady him. 

Ashe was also looking around, giving a low whistle at the collection. “That’s...a lot of platinum,” he said. “You sure we’re good enough for them?”

Felix rolled his eyes. “It’s just some shiny metal, Ashe. Don’t worry about it. These people are all about flash.”

“These _people_ are going to potentially produce a record for us,” Dedue responded. “It might be prudent to keep from disparaging them in their own building.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Felix groused. “Let’s go get some more shiny metal of our own, then. Lead the way, Your Highness.” He stepped out of the way for Dimitri and Dedue to keep moving forward, grabbing Ashe by a sleeve and tugging him away from a display case.

Sylvain was genially chatting with the receptionist, a younger looking girl with elaborate green pigtails, who was motioning down the hallway. 

“-you just take the second door on the left, that’s Byleth’s workroom. She should be expecting you! Can I get anyone any water? Tea?” 

“Tea would be great,” Ashe said over his shoulder, hurrying to catch up with Felix, who was already walking at a brisk pace down the hall. “Iced if you have it, it’s a little warm for hot tea and we had to walk a couple blocks to get there.” 

The girl’s bright smile was visible even from behind the high counter of her desk. “Of course! This is still the south, babe, we’ve got iced tea no matter what the season. I’ll bring some by in just a second!” 

Like he had been doing for the past four years, and even longer before, Dimitri followed his band.

—

For some reason, Dimitri thought that his first time meeting renowned songwriter Byleth Eisner would be more exciting. 

Instead, he found himself shaking hands with a shorter woman around his age with mint-green hair pulled up in a messy topknot, a large set of headphones around her neck, and an oddly expressionless face. Going from the bubbly receptionist and open reception area to the firm handshake and nod that Byleth Eisner gave him in her cramped, dark office practically gave him whiplash. The only emotion she seemed to really project was a slight discomfort at the amount of people and instruments currently crowding into her office and tossing themselves on her sofa. 

“No need for everyone to introduce themselves, I’ve got the rundown from Flayn,” she said, after a very brief round of introductions. “I’ll be your songwriter and music consultant. If we decide our styles are compatible from today’s session, that is.”

She looked down at her hands, which were twisting her headphone cord back and forth, and grimaced a little. She didn’t look like she was used to speaking that much to a large group, even if her sentences were short. “Uh, if you want to talk first, I guess we could do that, or you can head into the booth there if you want to play or warm up so I can get a feel for your sound.” 

“That sounds wonderful,” Dedue said, drawing out their binders from his bag and placing them next to her laptop. “It’s an honor to play for such an important figure in the industry, ma’am.” 

Byleth’s face dropped a small amount, not enough for most to probably notice, but Dimitri’s eyes hadn’t left her face since she shook his hand. He didn’t know why, but her face was just as fascinating, if not more, than the piles of awards in the lobby. 

He ran his hand through his hair, shaking his head to clear the daze. Maybe the humidity had affected him more than he realized. 

“Just Byleth, please,” she said to Dedue. “I’m no one particularly special, really, don’t worry.” 

She reached towards her soundboard and flipped a few switches. “The door should be open now, and sound hookups on. Go ahead and start when you’re ready.” 

—

Playing in the small attached studio to Byleth’s workroom felt like home. It recalled the places Blue Kingdom had done their first recordings as a band, hurriedly attempting perfect first takes to save as much money on the studio rental time as they could. The paint here was a little less chipped, the carpet less stained, and the sound quality miles better, but when he was playing in close proximity to his friends, feeling the reverberations of Dedue’s bass in his bones and Sylvain’s harmonies mix with his, Dimitri was the most comfortable he had felt since their bus had pulled into Tennessee. 

They played their way through a couple of songs from “Lions of Faerghus,” their latest album, named after the knights of mythic folklore that _Pitchfork_ had called “a brooding, but energetic blend of _The Once and Future King_ and classic rock.” Byleth listened from her chair on the other side of the glass, her headphones on and her face expressionless again. It was starting to feel almost familiar. 

Halfway through their second song, the door to Byleth’s workroom swung open, and a short redheaded woman rushed in balancing an armful of papers and a large coffee cup and pastry. She started speaking very quickly to Byleth, soundless to Dimitri and his friends through the studio walls, but Annette’s apologetic body language and floundering for being late was nothing new to any of them. Felix cut off his guitar mid-solo to chuckle at the scene and wave, and the band faded to a stop with him. 

Byleth seemed a little taken aback by the chaotic force of nature that was their manager. She turned back around to notice that they had stopped, and pressed the intercom button on her side. 

“Hey, your manager’s here. Well, I guess you can see that too, huh? Shit.” She pulled her headphones off, rubbing at one of her ears. “You can finish up the song if you want or just come back out here. I’ve pretty much got the general impression that I needed.”

Before the intercom released, they heard a loud “I’m SORRY!” from Annette, who had finally dumped her pile of paperwork on the coffee table to wave at them. 

Sylvain was the first out of the room, wrapping her into a quick hug. “Gotta say, I admire your dedication to your brand, not everyone is as consistently late as you are,” he said, releasing her to flop onto the workroom couch and reach for a water bottle. 

Annette scowled. “It’s not my fault that it took the café so long to make my coffee, how difficult is a triple mocha with extra whip, huh?” 

She popped the lid off of the coffee cup, and took a sip of what Dimitri was sure was mainly just a pile of whipped cream. “Anyway, you guys sounded great, what did you think, Ms. Eisner? Is their sound something you can work with?” 

“Just Byleth, please. And yeah, it’s definitely something I can write for. I haven’t done anything for indie rock in a bit, but I know the genre well. I think there’s potential for a good thing here.” 

“What have you been working on lately, Ms. Eisn- I mean, Byleth?” Ashe asked, leaning forward on the couch. His foot was still bouncing slightly on the floor, the movement vibrating through Dimitri’s leg. It always took him a little while after playing to let the residual energy from drumming leave his body. 

Byleth opened up her laptop, scrolling through a few things. “Current commission is for... oh yeah, the new Ferdinand von Aegir and Dorothea collab. Their last duet I worked on did decently-“ 

“The one that was number one on the charts for three months?” Felix muttered. 

“-uh...yeah, it did okay, so their producer wanted me to write another one for them.” 

“That sounds amazing! I’ve really loved Ferdinand’s latest songs,” Ashe said, beaming. “Would it be possible for us to see what you have so far?” 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Byleth shrugged, turning her computer around for him to view. “Just, you know, don’t steal or take any pictures or I’ll have to kill you.” 

Ashe laughed, until he saw her stone-faced expression staring back at him. He blanched, stammering. “Of- of course not! I wouldn’t ever-“ 

“I was joking.” Byleth cut him off. For the first time, Dimitri saw her give a small smile, just an uptick of her lips, really, but it was...oddly charming. Huh. He didn’t know how to feel about that.

There was a slight pause as Ashe seemed to recover from his freeze. Sylvain broke it by bursting into laughter, slapping him on the back. “Oh man, I like you, Byleth, we’re going to get on great, I just know it.” 

Automatically, Annette rapped him gently in the back of the head with her knuckles. “Cool it, Sylvain, she’s a colleague now, not a conquest.” 

“Hey, what did I even do to imply-“

Felix cut Sylvain off. “Hey Annette, where’s Mercedes and Ingrid? Aren’t they with you?” 

Annette waved her hand in the air vaguely. “Oh, they dropped me off, said that we all didn’t need to crowd in here. Also, they wanted to buy cowboy boots downtown! I told them to pick me up a pair, so we can all match.”

She beamed. “It’s going to be so cute! We can get you guys some boots too, or maybe some of the little western shirts or cowboy hats they have- oh Dimitri, you would look _so_ dashing with a cowboy hat- and then we can take a photo for your Instagram, it would get such great engagement-”

“Annie, _please_ ,” Felix said, head in his hands.

“Right. Sorry. They’re going to meet up with us for lunch! Byleth, would you like to grab lunch with us and meet up with the rest of the team?” 

Byleth had been examining them all while Annette spoke, her small smile growing into a more comfortable grin. “Yeah, I can do that. You have me for the rest of the day, really.” 

“Great! There’s a ton of restaurants close by, we could walk somewhere, or I can call a couple cars, or- ooh! I saw a couple food trucks near here.” 

Annette’s thumbs flew across her phone, and Dimitri knew she was scanning Yelp with practiced speed. 

“I, uh, know a place close by, if you like Indian food.” Byleth rubbed a hand on the back of her head. A few strands of her hair fell down on her neck, and Dimitri watched them brush down gently, his ears slightly ringing. It just was from the residual echoes in the studio, he told himself. That’s all that it was. 

Right?

“Indian food sounds great.” Dedue, bless him, had spoken up. Dimitri attempted to refocus his attention, trying to mimic Dedue’s stoic professionalism.

“Yes,” he said, speaking for the first time since he had finished singing. “That sounds lovely, Byleth. Please, lead the way.” 

As they filed out of the office one by one, Byleth stood to leave with them, tying a black bomber jacket loosely around her waist. She knocked her shoulder against Dimitri as they were the last to exit, clicking the lights off and locking her door. 

“For the record,” she said, “I think a cowboy hat would be a pretty good look on you.”

—

_A description of a TikTok captioned “BLUE da ba Dee da Ba daa” posted under the username @FishBish, currently at 1.3 million likes:_

_A green-haired girl with pigtails grins at the camera with the five members of the band Blue Kingdom clustered by a large lobby front desk. Another person with green hair and a black tank top is a brief blur as they quickly exit the frame._

_The girl speaks into her headphone microphone._

_"Hey Blue Kingdom, what’s your band’s official motto?”_

_She holds the mic up to Sylvain Gautier, who is grinning broadly at the camera “Eat ass, suck a dick, and sell drugs.” He shoots finger guns at the phone._

_The girl moves to a glowering Felix Fraldarius next to him, who stares directly at the phone. “Talk shit, get hit.”_

_“Ashe, what about you?”_

_Ashe Ubert leans into the mic. “Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.” Sylvain high-fives him over Felix’s head._

_“Dedue?”_

_Dedue Molinaro gives a polite nod to the girl and the camera. “Stay hydrated,” he deadpans._

_Ashe cracks up, leaning into his side, waving a water bottle. He tosses an arm around Dimitri Blaiddyd’s shoulders. “Your turn, Your Highness!”_

_Dimitri gives a small uncomfortable smile at his bandmates. “Um, always follow your dreams?”_

_A chorus of laughter and boos follows this, cutting off suddenly mid-heckle as the video ends._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This fic grew out of me mentioning to my friend how the Blue Lions could totally work as a boy band and, well, mutated into this entire universe. Shout out to Taryn for introducing me to Fire Emblem and indulging me on all of my fiction ramblings <3 
> 
> I also miss live music so damn much, so hopefully you all can join me in living vicariously through these characters' adventures at concerts and music festivals. Don’t worry, we will be meeting the Golden Deer gang and Black Eagles kids at some points down the line as well! 
> 
> While I’m working on a full playlist for this fic, I’m going to post a song for each chapter for its general vibes instead. The song for this one to start us off is “Set to Attack,” by Albert Hammond Jr.
> 
> Comments, reviews, and kudos are always welcome!


	2. Nashville- Part Two

Over piles of Indian food at a small, innocuous buffet place off of West End, Sylvain learned four new things about Byleth. 

One: her father was indeed the legendary country music songwriter Jeralt Eisner.

“Dad actually showed me this place,” Byleth said, balancing a fifth samosa on top of a Jenga-style stack on her plate. “He and Garth used to come here a lot after sessions.” 

“Garth...wait, Ms. Eis- I mean, Byleth- are you talking about Garth _Brooks_?” Ashe paused with a forkful of rice on the way to his mouth. “Your dad knows him?”

“Yeah, I mean, he wrote for him a lot back when I was little. He’s pretty cool.” 

Sylvain raised his eyebrows. “Pretty...cool.” 

She shrugged. “Yeah. Awful baseball player, though.” 

Two: her only social media profile was a decade-old MySpace page with one personal post and lists of songs that ranged from early funk to Norwegian metal. 

“You don’t have a Twitter account?” 

Sylvain felt scandalized at her bored dismissal, as if she had just insulted his mother. Actually, scratch that, bad example, he probably would have joined in on the insults if that were actually the case.

“No?”

“Instagram?” 

“No.” 

“Facebook??” 

“No! Never seemed that important.” 

“Good lord, woman, next thing you’re going to tell me is that you don’t own a TV.” 

“Well…”

“What the _fuck_.”

Three: she could play (at _least_ ) ten different instruments. 

“I spent a lot of time hanging out in studios when I grew up traveling with Dad. Whenever he and the artist would stop to work stuff out, I would hang out with the instrumentalists, and I just...picked things up along the way.” 

“So you didn’t get any formal education?” Annette was the next one of them to sound shocked at one of the songwriter’s revelations. 

“Not everyone can get two degrees in five years, Annie,” Felix drawled. She threw a napkin across the table at him. 

“Well, when I started working for Seiros, Rhea made me fast-track a music business degree,” Byleth answered, “So I’ve got a piece of paper that says I’m legit for that, at least.” 

“Do you have a favorite instrument?” asked Dedue. He leaned over Sylvain to pass Mercedes another plate of the little round deep-fried pastries that her and Annette were devouring. 

“I’m always partial to guitar,” she said, a softer look on her face. She already seemed more comfortable talking in longer sentences than she had in her studio. Sylvain’s friends just had that type of effect on people. It’s what he loved about them, after all. “That’s probably pretty predictable of me to say, huh? Saxophones are pretty fun too.” 

“What about the weirdest one you can play?” Sylvain prompted, snatching a piece of Felix’s naan. His friend slapped at his hand uselessly, unable to effectively block his long arms from reaching around him, a reaction so adorable that Sylvain promptly stole another piece from him. He was probably going to bloat from all the carbs at this point, but Felix’s pissy face was just so cute that he couldn’t help it. 

Byleth gave them a proper smile, actually showing her teeth. “Didgeridoo.” 

He broke his attention away from Felix’s attempts to barricade his food, now with the enlisted help of Ingrid. “ _What._ ” 

“Yeah. That was a fun few weeks.” 

And four: she never wrote anything for herself. 

“I’m not really a performer,” she had muttered through a mouthful of curry after Ingrid asked. “I just like to help other people realize their potential.” 

“But, you haven’t even written anything in private? Just for you?” 

“I put a little of my soul into everything I write.” Her face became a little wistful. “Keeping part of it away for my own personal use seems...selfish.” 

“I understand,” Dimitri replied. Sylvain watched as Byleth gave their lead singer an inscrutable look from across the table. Dimitri quickly ducked his head back down to his mountain of lentils. 

Well. That was an interesting development. Sylvain filed that interaction away in his mind for later. 

“Yeah,” she said, still looking at Dimitri. “I bet you do.” 

Byleth drained the rest of her water and laid her napkin on the table, leaning so far back in her chair that it threatened to tip onto two legs. She crossed her arms. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m taking the job. Let’s make an album.” 

The group erupted into excited chatter and yells, filling the tiny buffet with an echoing din of enthusiasm. 

—

“Okay, guys, shut up and listen.” 

Ingrid cleared her throat as they all settled in on the bus, taking the clipboard that Annette handed her with a nod. “Since you’ll be multitasking and starting work on the next album on this tour, Byleth has agreed to travel with us.” 

Sylvain put his hand up. 

“She will _not_ be sleeping on the tour bus with you guys.” 

Sylvain put his hand down. 

“We’ll be making some stops at some studios along the road to record test tracks and make notes, so keep that in mind.” 

Ashe put his hand up. 

“If you have any song or music ideas you’d like to run by her, you are welcome to do that during working hours and not at two-goddamn-AM because some of us,” she glared over her sunglasses at Dimitri here; he looked at his feet, embarrassed, “actually sleep like normal human beings.” 

Ashe put his hand down.

Ingrid gave another curt nod, and ripped a sheet of paper off the clipboard to pass to Byleth. 

“This is the tour schedule with stops, performance venues, and recording studios listed for you to reference. It’s an eight-month-long tour.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Byleth’s eyes were skimming the paper; she appeared to be making mental notes. “It was part of Rhea’s brief. Like I said, Dad and I traveled for most of my life, so I pack pretty light.” 

“How soon do you think you can be ready to go?” Annette asked. Her thumbs were flying across her phone screen again, swiping through calendars and venue agreements.

“Well, you have a concert at the amphitheater downtown in what, two days?” 

“Yep. Then St. Louis after that in three.”

Byleth hummed an agreement, flipping the paper over to continue reading. “Sure, I can be ready in two days. The extended time away from here should be fine. Might actually be nice to get out of the humidity, for once. Flayn can take care of the cat.” 

Annette lit up. “You have a cat? Oh, what’s its name, do you have any pictures?” 

“Oh, uh, no. It’s not...mine? It’s this asshole stray that I fed one time and it decided it liked me. I just leave food and water out for it.” She held out her phone to show a slightly blurry photo of a grumpy orange cat with one eye and a mangled ear. 

“Does he have a name?” Dimitri leaned closer to look at the picture. His shoulder brushed hers as he did, his large form folded in to look practically cozy next to her on the small bus benches. Sylvain added it to his mental tally of the...notable interactions the two had been having. He doubted Dimitri was aware of the growing charge between them, and from what he had gathered of the stoic songwriter so far, she probably wasn’t much better in the emotional awareness department. Not everyone could be as skilled in chemistry as Sylvain, after all. 

He internally resolved to keep a more dedicated eye on the two. He gave it three months. 

Byleth swiped through a couple pictures, all as blurry as the last, one almost obscured with her thumb completely. She wrinkled her nose. “His name’s...Sir Meowington.” 

Her tone was that of someone long resigned to a path of misery. 

The group looked at her for a bizarre moment, before she slid her phone back into her jacket and slumped slightly back on the bench. “Flayn named him,” she muttered. 

Mercedes was trying (and failing) to conceal a giggle. “Well, I think it’s a lovely name for a lovely old cat.” 

“I just call him Cat.” Byleth shook her head. “He’ll be fine without me for a while. I doubt he’ll even notice.” 

The folded up schedule was tucked into a sturdy black backpack (one of those surprisingly expensive high-end hiking ones, Sylvain noted) along with her laptop and headphones which zipped into a solid case. “Well then, thanks for the food, and the show, I guess. I’ll start packing, and I’ll see you in two days?” 

Ashe grabbed onto Dedue’s arm, bouncing in his seat a bit. “This is going to be so much _fun_!” 

—

Despite their extensive travels, one thing would always stay the same for Blue Kingdom. They were, and would always be, from Chicago. 

Well, okay, technically, Ashe was from somewhere in Minnesota and Mercedes was born in Ohio and Dedue was from that island in Michigan where they didn’t have cars or whatever, but they had all _met_ in Chicago, and the point remained the same regardless: they would always be more used to the cold than to extreme heat. 

So of fucking course their first tour performance had to be outdoors in a sweltering Tennessee one-two punch of heat and humidity. Sylvain wasn’t surprised in the slightest. At least the amphitheater was near to the river that cut through the city, which gifted them a slight breeze here and there as he and his bandmates sat on the back stairs of the loading dock, the cramped backstage area too hot for their northern blood. 

At least he had dressed for the weather, unlike Felix and Dimitri. (The former was too stubborn to change out of his usual black clothing and the latter was too oblivious to realize when packing for the tour that seasons and varied climates existed.) To the guy’s credit, Dimitri didn’t even seem to be phased by the heat, even in his ever-present flannel.

Sylvain tugged on the light fabric of the silk Hawaiian shirt he was wearing, considering unbuttoning yet another button. Sure, the shirt was already half-open, but it really was boiling, and he couldn’t really think of any more problems that showing more skin would cause him. 

He usually couldn’t, to be fair. Perks of being young, hot, and verified on Instagram.

Ashe was content in a simple tank top and cuffed pants, with a backwards baseball cap pulling back the majority of his silver hair to keep it from dangling in his face and a blue bandanna knotted around his neck. Dedue was in his usual uniform of a dark grey tee and jeans, his pair of gold necklaces standing out against the shirt and his dark skin. Felix, though, was starting to fidget, pulling at the neck of his black shirt with obvious discomfort, and kept trying (and failing) to roll up sleeves that seemed determined to slip right back down. His hair was pulled up in a high ponytail in an attempt to keep it off of his neck, the back of which was starting to turn pink from either the heat or the sun. 

Sylvain caught his eyes lingering on the exposed skin of Felix’s neck, and, frustratedly, added it as yet another bullet point on his long mental list of “Parts of Felix’s Body Sylvain Isn’t Allowed to Gawk At (subtitled: Don’t Creep on Your Friend, You Bastard).” 

Annette was a blur in a seersucker sundress flitting between the sound techs and the stagehands, Mercedes following at a more sedate pace behind her with her purse and clipboard. She managed to turn and yell a shrill “Live in TEN!” to the band before returning to her current task of terrifying a lighting tech.

The buzz of the crowd on the other side of the amphitheater stage had grown steadily over the past hour; random pop and rock songs piped over the speakers acting as background noise. It mingled with the cresting drone of audience members clustering near the stage or finding further spots on the open lawn to stand by the great pillars of concert-going: stalls selling $15 aluminum bottles of beer. 

Sylvain leapt up from the steps, raring to go. The louder the crowd got, the more he felt his blood rush in response, and he was itching to be out in the full force of their attention and the intoxicating high that came with it. A stagehand passed him his guitar, pre-tuned and adjusted for his liking. He went to grab Felix’s for him (Sylvain was the only other person Felix allowed to touch his guitar when it wasn’t in a case), but turned with it to see his friend deep in contemplation with a water bottle. His face was screwed up like he was considering just dumping the whole thing over his head. 

Well, it wasn’t like anyone would be able to tell- that was one benefit of wearing all black, at least- but the stage equipment probably wouldn’t react well to a damp Felix Fraldarius dripping on it. 

“Fe?” Sylvain asked, a little louder than he usually would to be heard over the noise. “You ready?” 

Felix seemed to come to a decision and stood, but instead of joining Sylvain, he reached into his pocket and pulled out one of his knives, flicking it open with one hand. Caught off guard, Dimitri gave an impressively dexterous full-body jerk away from him at the reveal. Sylvain jumped a bit as well. 

“Whoa! Okay, man, I guess if you don’t want to go on tonight, that’s fine, but there’s no need to stab your way out of here.” 

“What? No! I’m not stabbing anyone, you idiot.” Felix reached toward his left sleeve, bending his arm inside his shirt so he could reach the cloth with his knife. “I just need to get these off so I don’t fucking melt.” 

“Okay- well, hold up, definitely don’t do it that way, you’re going to cut yourself.” Sylvain closed his hand over Felix’s where he was grasping the knife. Sweet Jesus, Felix’s hands were number two on the PoFBSIAtGA list, but he _definitely_ wasn’t going to think about that right now. He slipped it away from him carefully. “Here, put your arm back outside your shirt. You want just the sleeve off, or do you want more of an open tank thing?” 

“Just do what you think will look the best,” came the grumbled reply. Felix was pointedly staring at the rafters, his neck flushing further (damn it, he looked). 

“Sweet, pop punk open sides it is.” 

The knife was sharp, because of course it was. All of Felix’s knives were kept sharp to a near-obsessive degree. The blade was about the length of his index finger and about an inch wide, so it cut through the fabric of Felix’s shirt with relative ease. He worked his way around the shoulder seam, and then down to the middle of his torso, stopping mid-rib, where the swirls of Felix’s Celtic knot tattoos began, and worked his way back up, trying to be as gentle as he could. 

“Alright guys, are you ready to- Felix! What are you _doing_?” 

Sylvain could feel his friend tense up to shrug at Annette, before realizing at the last minute that moving with a knife that close was a bad idea for both his shirt and his body. “I’m fine, Annie, give me a second, I just got hot.” 

“Well, you’re only going to get hotter once I cut these clothes off of you,” Sylvain found himself saying, almost automatically. 

Fuck. He hated himself for it, he really did, but he had been so focused on getting the other side of the shirt to stay even that his brain went on autopilot, and stupid shit like that tended to spill out with an accompanying smirk when he wasn’t thinking. 

Felix actually did pull away at that, scoffing, the half-cut sleeve dangling from his side like a broken wing.

“Ugh. Give me the knife, I’ll finish it myself.” 

“Hey! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, couldn’t help it. I just have a little more to go, come back here.” 

He approached Felix slowly, like one would a skittish animal, grasping the loose fabric in surprisingly still hands and giving it a few final cuts. The callused tips of his fingers brushed along the newly exposed skin of Felix’s side as he did so, and he could sense him give a minute shudder. Sylvain froze. “Sorry, did I cut you?” 

Felix’s response came through newly unclenched teeth with a deep exhale. Had he been holding his breath that whole time? “No. You’re fine.” 

“And so are you, now that you’re in a Gautier custom garment!” Sylvain stepped back to take a look at his work. And yeah, it was pretty good, if he did say so himself. The cutoff sleeves displayed the tone in Felix’s arms, more so when he crossed them under surveillance, and a low dip in each side opened up the shirt to show flashes of a pale chest splashed with tattoos when he turned. “What do you think?” He tossed him the sleeves and the (closed) knife, going to pick up his guitar before he would have to add “Felix’s whole damn torso” as a bullet point on the List. 

“I think you look really cool, Felix!” Ashe twirled a drumstick in between his fingers. “Very late 2000s, but, like, in a good way.” 

“Hmph. It’s acceptable. Not as warm, at least.” 

Sylvain beamed at their drummer. “That means he loves it!” 

Felix rolled his eyes at them, then picked up his guitar and strode over to the edge of the stage wings without another word. Ashe followed behind, already bobbing his head to an unheard beat. 

Sylvain traipsed after the both of them, unable to keep the loopy grin off of his face as a tech counted them down for their intro. The stage speakers crackled to life.

_“Alright folks-”_

The noise of the crowd grew louder, chanting and laughter and whooping blurring together.

_“Put your hands together-”_

Sylvain’s blood was still buzzing, surging through his arteries, making him lightheaded in all the best ways, from the noise, from the heat, and from the lingering smell of Felix’s shampoo and sweat that clung to his senses. He felt like he could take on the world. 

_“Give a big Nashville welcome to-”_

Time always passed in snapshots before a show, slowing down in a slide projection reel of moments. 

The spotlights flared on, blinding against a setting sun. The crowd roared. Annette and Mercedes gave them twin thumbs ups. He and his bandmates bumped their fists together. His knuckles brushed with Felix’s. He could’ve sworn they lingered. The amps shrieked awake. A sound light flipped green. They made their way on stage. 

_“Blue Kingdom, everyone!”_

They began to play. 

—

Two hours, eight guitar solos, one Nirvana cover, three bottles of water, and one and a half encores later, they exited the stage, sweaty and exhausted, bodies beginning to slow down as the shared adrenaline of the crowd faded with them. 

Ashe kept up a running commentary as they moved backstage to meet the girls, somehow able to walk backwards while facing them and chattering away. His light feet allowed him to effortlessly weave around obstacles of taped-down cords and cases.

“Dimitri, your vocals on those last two songs were so _good_ , and Dedue, you absolutely nailed that run on “Heavy Armor,” and did that girl in the front of the crowd really faint? I couldn’t see!” 

“Yeah, she did faint,” Sylvain said. He stretched his arms above his head as he finally put down his guitar, working out the kinks and built-up soreness in his shoulders. “Unfortunately, my presence up close has that effect on some women- it’s a curse, I know, but it’s a struggle I’ve had to bear my whole life.” 

“She only swooned a little, and it was from the heat, you idiot,” Felix said, rolling his eyes. “She got back up like, a second later.” 

“I don’t know, Fe,” Sylvain grinned, waggling his eyebrows at his friend. “Maybe it was the sight of those lily-white abs that made her weak in the knees.” 

“Oh, blow me, Sylvain,” Felix said, and scowled. 

“Throat’s a bit sore right now, but gimme twenty minutes and a Ricola, and I’ll-”

“Keep it in your pants and get on the bus, Syl.” 

Ingrid had materialized behind them, arms crossed and tapping her foot, bus keys jangling in one hand and a duffel bag in the other. She was wearing her standard black SECURITY t-shirt that was her go-to uniform for shows, with her Taser and flashlight strapped to her side. 

“The sooner we get out of here before post-concert traffic gets bad, the better.”

Sylvain shot her a two-fingered salute, laughing at her exasperated sigh and Felix’s scrunched up face, and followed Dimitri out onto the loading dock. He flung an arm around his friend’s flannel-covered shoulders. 

“Nice show there, Your Highness!” He nudged Dimitri’s shoulder with his own. “I’d say you definitely had quite a few other people close to swooning there yourself.” 

Dimitri blinked a little, shaking his head to clear off a daze. He always zoned out a bit after a show, Sylvain knew, it was a side effect of coming down from the intense, raw magnetism he exuded at the mic that had made them so popular in the first place. 

“Hm? Oh dear, I hope I didn’t cause anyone to feel faint,” he said, looking mildly worried. “I hope that they were able to receive proper medical attention.” 

“There’s only so much hydration that a too-expensive tallboy of Bud Lite can get ya,” Sylvain laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll all go sleep it off with visions of hot blonde singers dancing in their heads.” 

Dimitri frowned. “If they’re having visual trouble, they should-”

“ _Joking_ , Dima, Earth to Dima, come on!” 

“Ah yes, you’re right, of course.” Dimitri gave a wry smile. “Maybe I’m the one who needs hydration.” 

“Counterpoint: maybe we all need some overpriced alcohol! Do you think Mercie could convince Ingrid to let us go to some honky tonks? I haven’t paid sixteen dollars for a bad gin and tonic in forever, and there’s just scores of bachelorette parties downtown just waiting for us, I know it.”

“Bachelorette parties are number two on Annette’s list of no-gos for you, Sylvain,” Dedue said, his large form appearing out of nowhere on Dimitri’s other side. Seriously, for a 6’4 dude built like a linebacker, the guy could be _stealthy_ if he wanted to. 

Dimitri chuckled. “Annette’s wrath for disobeying the List should be enough to dissuade you of those inclinations.” 

“ _Who’s_ disobeying the List?” 

Jeez, Annette was tiny, but she had ears like a hawk. Lungs like a howler monkey, though, since her voice was coming from halfway across the back parking lot. He ended up having to spend the fifteen minutes it took to finish loading up their bus convincing their powdered sugar-covered manager (Seriously, where did she get a funnel cake? He didn’t see any stands selling them anywhere, did she have one specifically delivered?) of his purest intentions to follow the rules down to the purple Sharpie-printed letter. 

“Could we still go out though, please, Annette?” he begged. He nudged Mercedes to back him up in his protestations to her girlfriend. “There’s great karaoke here, you love karaoke!” 

Annette faltered at the mention of her personal kryptonite, and Sylvain geared up to pounce, until Mercedes shook her head at the both of them. “It would be very fun, honey, but Ingrid’s already going to be driving through the majority of the night, we just don’t have room for it on the timetable this time around.”

Both Annette and Sylvain sagged a little in defeat. 

“Hey, don’t look so glum!” Mercedes said encouragingly. “I’ve got a value pack of White Claws in the bus fridge with our names on it, Sylvain.” 

“Mercie, you’re a goddamn saint.” 

She laughed as Ashe bounded onto the bus, followed closely by Annette, probably already calling dibs on a flavor. Sylvain helped Dedue and Ingrid close the last compartment on their bus, and then followed them both on as well. 

He was surprised to see Byleth Eisner herself seated inside, feet propped up lengthwise on the long padded bench like she’d always been there, typing on her laptop. Even though she had been dressed in what were essentially street clothes at her office, her current outfit was much more casual, consisting of cutoff shorts over a pair of patterned tights and the same boots she’d been wearing earlier, a faded grey crop top with the curling lines of a logo he didn’t recognize, and her black bomber jacket again tied around her waist. The only real pop of color in her outfit was a brand-new blue baseball cap with their band’s stylized lion logo on it (that had clearly been swiped directly from their merch inventory). Her green hair poked out the back of it in a small ponytail. 

She looked up at him as he entered, and gave him a thumbs-up, pointing at her cap with the other hand. The starched, unworn shape and bright color of the hat made her look like the world’s most punk Little League mom. 

“Well, fancy seeing you here, Byleth,” he said. “Hello MTV, welcome to my crib, etcetera, etcetera.” 

He swept an arm out across the bus, at Ashe dumping two packets of Emergen-C into an open White Claw (an Emergen-Claw, they all fondly had termed it), and at Felix cursing and smacking the ancient Keurig on the small counter as it sputtered out green tea, Dimitri waiting patiently next to him with his own mug. Behind him in the driver’s cockpit, he could hear the telltale cracking noise of a Red Bull pop tab being opened. 

“You have a lovely home,” she deadpanned, moving her feet aside for Dimitri and Felix to sit down. “Also, you’re out of mango White Claws.”

“Alright,” Ingrid called from the front of the bus, cranking the ignition in a rattling hum that ran throughout the bus as it started up. “Everyone say bye to Nashville, and let’s get this show on the road!” 

“Okay, boys,” Byleth said. She cracked her knuckles as their bus pulled out of the lot and began to force its way through traffic out to the open highway stretching far ahead of them. 

“Where do you want to start?”

—

_A description of an Instagram post captioned “Save a horse, ride a cowboy ;)” from the account @GotGautier:_

_The five members of Blue Kingdom pose in front of a large sculpture of a guitar emblazoned with the Grand Ole Opry logo and name. Each of them are wearing bright blue Western-style shirts with white fringe and black embroidery. Ashe Ubert has an added pair of cowboy boots over skinny jeans, and is sitting on Dedue Molinaro’s broad shoulders, waving a cowboy hat in the air._

_Sylvain Gautier has a foot propped up on the base of the statue, thumb hooked on a gaudy oversized belt buckle with the other hand resting on a suggestively cocked-out hip. Felix Fraldarius sits stiffly on the base of the statue next to him, a cowboy hat tipped forward over his eyes with a black bandanna covering the lower half of his face like an old-fashioned movie bandit._

_In the center of all of them, Dimitri Blaiddyd leans back with crossed arms, a cowboy hat of his own tipped back on his head in profile as he turns to laugh at Sylvain’s pose. Fallen magnolia flowers from the nearby foliage are strewn around his feet like the offerings of temple worshippers, like the adoring gifts to an actor after a show._

_The setting sun acts as their spotlight, capturing them in a single still frame of camaraderie._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back! I had put this fic on hold while I finished my other two FE:3H fics, but I’ll be working to update this one and another upcoming modern AU now more often :) 
> 
> An incomplete list of the instruments Byleth knows how to play: guitar, piano, trumpet, violin, saxophone, steel guitar, bass, flute, and didgeridoo. (Basically, take the fact that she can pick up virtually any weapon in the video game and apply it towards music.) 
> 
> If you are like me and also miss live music, if you want to see the gang visit a certain city or music festival, comment below, and I’ll try to include it as a stop on their tour! 
> 
> The song for this chapter is “Reptilia,” by The Strokes, one of my favorite songs I’ve seen in concert at all time and a great example of how I think Blue Kingdom’s quintessential sound is.


End file.
